risk assessment
by Medie
Summary: she knows it's a risk coming...she just doesn't care anymore


title: risk assessment  
by: medie  
fandom: alias  
pairing: Jack/Will (hehe)  
rating: pg 13  
summary: she knows it's a risk coming back...she just doesn't care anymore.  
note: this is technically another story in a loose series of stories with a genderbend on Will Tippin. Will's Wilhelmina and, as a result, Francie Calfo became Frank as the story mentions. Set S4 sometime after Mirage. This would be for the Vice Versa Challenge that **oxoniensis** is running. I'd originally planned on something from Farscape but...that hasn't materialized entirely yet so Will took over and stole the show. She's got a habit of that.

"risk assessment"  
by m.  
----  
Her return to Los Angeles was just as her departure had been. Under the cover of darkness and in a terrible rush. The marshal assigned to be her keeper had objected but Will paid little attention to him. The risk of returning to Los Angeles was no worse than living in Witness Protection. Perhaps less. With Sloane running the new unit Jack had told her about, he was hardly about to threaten her. Killing her wasn't worth risking APO and his new life. In her fanciful moments, Will had enjoyed conjuring up an image of an enraged Jack Bristow avenging her murder.

Living with just such thoughts had given Will a carefree boldness which had frustrated her keepers. Had no doubt infuriated them when she'd boarded the plane to home without so much as a backward glance. Not that she cared. Whether or not the federal marshal service was pleased by her choice didn't matter one whit to Will. She'd come home because her mother was sick and any risk that did exist was one she was willing to take.

The plastic chair creaked beneath her as Will shifted her position, eyes on her mother's peaceful face. She hadn't told anyone about her return. She hadn't called Sydney or even her parents. She hadn't dared. She seriously doubted Sloane or anyone left from SD-6 would care but she wasn't risking advertising her presence either. Her safety aside, she wasn't about to endanger her family either. Her mother had enough on her mind with the cancer. She didn't need her eldest daughter turning them into targets for assassination.

Will's gaze wandered away from her mother and settled on her father. Looking at him, she had to blink back tears of pain. The stress and grief of everything her actions had put him through had clearly weighed heavy. He'd aged a lifetime since the last time she'd seen him. So much so that it made her heart ache with the same grief just to look at him.

Eyes misting despite her battle, Will was overwhelmed with a wave of claustrophobia. Everything that she'd been running away from for a year was starting to catch up to her. The thoughts, memories, and feelings she'd been pushing away were crowding in and pushing at her. They rose up in her throat, closing it off so tightly Will had to fight the urge to claw at her skin. She had to get away. She had to. The urge to run slammed into her, pushing and pressing, niggling at her unrelentingly.

She was on her feet before she realized she was moving. The force of the motion propelled the chair back against the wall with a dull thud. The noise startled her and she shot a guilty look at her parents. Neither stirred from their exhausted sleep, a blessing as Will wasn't up to explaining her actions.

A brief note saying she was going for coffee was the compromise her guilty conscience forced her into. There was only one nurse at the station at the end of the corridor and she was too engrossed in the National Inquirer to pay the wraithlike Will any attention.

Deliberately nondescript in jeans and a black sweater, she slipped her hands into her pockets and ghosted down the corridor. The elevator waited at the far end and she wasn't in any hurry to complete her errand. The realization brought a rush of shame which she stubbornly pushed back. She was well aware of what her problems had done to her parents. That knowledge never drifted too far from her thoughts. She'd left the room to get away from those thoughts and she wasn't going to let herself regret it. At least, not until she was back in that room again.

Her head bent low, Will reached the end of the sterile white corridor and lifted a hand to stab the call button. This accomplished, she began sifting through her pockets in search of change.

The old reporter habits kicked in as the doors slid open and, still counting the coins in her hand, she walked in and avoided bumping into the other passengers. She didn't acknowledge them in any way, in fact. It was partly out of habit and partly to avoid conversation period. The last thing she wanted to do was fake the happy bubbly persona that people associated with blondes. Especially blondes named Wilhelmina Tippin.

The irony was, she had always used that stereotype to her advantage. No one saw a perky bubbly blonde as a threat. No one expected the Lois Lane type to be hiding beneath a cap of always-in-motion bouncy blonde curls.

As a reporter it had been her ace card in interviews. As a construction worker living a lie it had been a lifesaver. It had been her first safeguard against anyone getting too close. No one expected the ditzy blonde that they all loved to flirt with to be a person of depth. Better they preferred ogling than actual talking.

There was far too much that she wanted to hide.

Now, now, the ditzy blonde was a liability. People loved to chat and she wasn't interested in it. She didn't want anyone noticing her. She wanted the solitude of invisibility. At the moment, people and Will Tippin didn't mix.

She hooked a stray curl away from her cheek, tucking it back behind her ear as she released a weary breath. She was just so damn tired of it all. Just plain tired of it.

Somewhere deep in her soul she felt like she was forever being drowned alive. She'd unwittingly stumbled into an ocean of lies and been pulled beneath the surface, held down by the weight of her own loyalty.

Loyalty that she still felt.

That was the kicker. After all the things Sydney's friendship had done to her, losing her old life, the whole thing with Frank Calfo - Alan Doren, whoever - and every other damn part of it...she still couldn't find it in herself to blame Sydney. Not entirely. She definitely had her moments but they inevitably passed and she felt guilty all over again. She just couldn't --

"Excuse me, Miss," a familiar voice murmured into her ear, "isn't this your floor?"

Will's head snapped up so fast she nearly smacked her head into his chin. "Jack!" The name came out in a harsh whisper of disbelief. It couldn't be him. How did...the answer, she realized belatedly, was somewhat obvious. The marshals.

Jack's hand touched her waist lightly and she restrained a shiver, feeling as though his fingertips were burning through her clothes into her skin. The feeling of his touch evoked memories of stolen encounters, pleasure and heat all flooding back in a dizzying array. An array so consuming she barely noticed when the other passengers disembarked.

"You broke protection." He commented, dispelling the daydream as quickly as it had hit her. "The Marshals are furious."

"Let them be." She sighed, regretting the loss of the memory, and reached out to stab at the elevator panel. "I don't care anymore." She turned to face him, taking in the changes since his last visit. "You've got Sloane effectively neutered and oh my God, what happened?" She looked down at the cane in alarm then up at his face. "You're hurt..."

"I was." He said simply. "It's fine now."

"Somehow I doubt that one." She countered more sharply than she'd intended. "If you're using a cane it couldn't have been something small and it's definitely not fine."

"Sydney needed me." The answer was abrupt and she caught the look in his eye that said she was venturing into something she didn't much want to. "There was no other option."

"Hmm..." She nodded and sighed. "All right." Folding her arms across her chest, she took a step back, out of the range of his body heat. It was a temptation she didn't need. "I had to come back, Jack. You know why."

"Her prognosis is good." He pointed out.

"It's cancer." Will reminded. "I don't care how good her prognosis is...I mean, I do, but...she's my mother Jack. I'm not going to hide out in Wisconsin and pretend it doesn't bother me when I can be here. SD-6 and the Alliance are history. Anyone who would really threaten me isn't in a position to much care about me anymore. Any intel I did know is completely out of date and utterly useless and there are far better ways to get to Sydney than me. I'm not going back. Not after she's out of the hospital. I'm going to find an apartment and stay."

Jack stared at her and she knew he was taking in the look on her face, the resolute set of her jaw, her posture, reading a thousand other cues she wasn't even aware that she was sending out. "It's a risk." He said neutrally, his voice and face giving away nothing. Reading him was always such a joy. She could never be sure. At least, not like this.

"Everything's a risk." She countered tiredly. "I'm tired of pretending to be someone else. I just want to live my life. To go to the library, to get coffee, to swing by Sydney's and bug her about Vaughn or whatever...I want to live MY life, Jack and my life isn't in Wisconsin. It never was. My life is here and I want it back and if Arvin Sloane has a problem with that then by all means, where do I go to get the son of a bitch locked up. The CIA owes me one or two and his head on a platter would settle those scores nicely." She smiled bitterly. "And if they can't do that, then a nice rent controlled place and a decent job which doesn't involve shin splints would be just perfect."

She couldn't be sure but she thought she saw a faint hint of approval in his eyes. It flickered briefly before being hidden behind the walls that he'd made a staple of existence. Even when he reached out with his free hand to brush his fingertips over her cheek she didn't know what he was thinking.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried not to lean into the touch. It had been so very long since the last time...she'd missed him more than she'd let herself admit and that was a dangerous thought. Jack was her best friend's father. Jack had an ex-wife who could kill her without so much as breaking a nail. Jack was generally the last person she should be thinking about it. The last person she should be wanting.

But when had Will ever let a little thing like imminent danger to her person and heart stop her?

"We'll find you a place." He said finally, nodding. "And, in the meantime...you'll stay with me. I'll take care of your things."

She froze and opened her eyes. Apparently she wasn't the only one with a reckless streak.

"This is a bad idea." She pointed out quietly.

Her comment was met with a rare smile from him.

"Aren't they always?"

finis


End file.
